[Editor’s Note] In May, Atlanta, Georgia progressive rock band Great Wide Nothing released its fourth album, A Shout Into the Void. The band features bassist/vocalist Daniel Graham, keyboardist Dylan Porper and drummer Jeff Matthews. According to the band’s bio, the band has been “charting their own course through the uncertain and tumultuous waters of the independent music scene for nearly a decade.”
“They’ve worked hard enough, long enough, stubbornly enough to have become a byword among those in the know in their native Atlanta and beyond for high level musicianship, energetic, off-the-cuff live performances, and rugged DIY ingenuity,” the bio continues.
“Boasting an eclectic, adventurous – often unexpected – sound that brings together the keyboard-heavy textures, intricate riffage and sheer bombast of vintage prog, the spirited conviction and reckless abandon of punk rock, and the kind of heart-on-sleeve earnestness and melodic sensibility that are the hallmarks of the best pop songwriting, the trio is adept at their craft, constantly evolving, and have much to offer those brave enough, curious enough – weird enough – to dive in and check them out.”
They self-recorded the album mostly live to tape in their makeshift basement studio. It’s there where the band recorded their entry for our Water Tower Sessions series, unleashing a raw and spirited performance of their song “Rules Of Engagement”.
You can watch the video below:
You can watch find other Water Tower Session entries at our YouTube page.
Below, Graham shares a tour diary he wrote about the band’s August tour, which was the group’s longest U.S. tour to date.
FIVE DAYS ON THE ROAD (A TOUR DIARY)
Day One – 220 miles to Charlotte
It’s Thursday, August 21st, 2025 and Great Wide Nothing is embarking on our longest and farthest-reaching tour to date. Granted, by most standards, it’s not very long or far-reaching – just 4 shows, limited to the US east coast…but for me it’s significant. I’m a working dad of three so just arranging to get away for a few days has been a logistical challenge, much less figuring out how to make sure I don’t piss away money in the process.
This has been months in the making, and now it’s here. We’re on the road, doing something more than just a small weekend double-header contained to neighboring states. We’re touring. Like a real, actual fucking band.
I’ve been awake since 3am, thanks to my day job at a fast food breakfast chain (which will here remain unnamed…in my experience it’s best to keep your personal and work lives separate to some extent), but I feel incredibly energized. Excitement, impatience, nervousness; all the above surge through me as we hurtle down (or rather, up, I suppose, since we’re heading north) I-85.
In the van – my van, a bumper sticker-covered but otherwise nondescript old black Honda Odyssey – are the three members of Great Wide Nothing as well as our merch seller / social media assistant / friend and number one fan (a title she will likely fight you for, if challenged) Katie. Then, of course, there’s also Jeff’s drums, my beat up Rickenbacker (accompanied by my pedalboard and tiny-but-mighty Orange Terror/OBC 112 rig), and Dylan’s Nord Piano 6 and Moog Voyager, plus stands, suitcases, merch, etc. all crammed into the back.
We arrive early at the first venue, Charlotte’s legendary Milestone Club (an extensively graffitied, bare-bones, hole-in-the-wall-type joint that’s played host to punk and alternative heroes like The Replacements, REM, Husker Du, Black Flag, Bad Brains, and Nirvana just to name a few). Too early, in fact. Load-in isn’t for another hour. The gates are shut. So we head back toward a Wendy’s we passed for a much-needed food and restroom break, and kill time until the clock hits 7:00pm, when we return to our original destination, greeted and welcomed by Andy, the amicable “door bum” who’s become a fixture of the venue and something of a legend in his own right amongst folks in the Charlotte scene. He lets us start hauling gear inside.
At 9:00pm (Milestone shows start late), the opening band – This Island Earth – kicks things off. They sound like the bastard lovechild of Coheed & Cambria and Circa Survive, which is sick. Totally up my alley. They’re immediately followed by Once Below Joy, a self-described “wizard prog” band, who are clearly the big draw of the night (first time I can say I’ve seen a pit packed with such a dense horde of 20-somethings in pointy hats). We’re up next and though I sweat profusely in the thick and unforgiving humidity (the venue has no AC and we’re in North Carolina…in the summer), I struggle to hear my own voice at times, and experience a rather agonizing cramp in my fretting arm, no one seems to notice, or care if they do, especially as Dylan rips through the blistering synth solo in our song “The Parting Of Ways”.
A rad instrumental post-hardcore band called Mindvac rounds out the night, and as the crowd disperses and everyone starts packing up, it’s clear the first show of the run has been a success. With a surprising amount of money in our pockets, we follow the guitarist of Mindvac back to his place on the other side of town.
By now it’s something like 1:45 or 2:00 in the morning and I’ve been awake for nearly 24 hours straight. Following a quick shower, I arrange a pair of armchairs into a makeshift bed (Jeff took the couch, Dylan brought an air mattress, and Katie made a palette on the floor), and close my eyes.
Day Two – 295 miles to Richmond
It’s now Friday, August 22nd. After waking up around 9:30 or 10:00am, getting dressed, packing our bags back up and sticking a $20 to our host’s fridge as a thank you for giving us a place to crash, the four of us promptly pile into the van for the trek to our next show in Richmond.
We make good time – enough to justify a stop at the McKay’s in Greensboro, where I spend a good hour perusing the religion/philosophy section of their used book area (followed by a quick dig through the record bins) as Jeff hunts for some vintage Transformer or another that he doesn’t already own. Katie manages to track down a couple of sci-fi/fantasy novels. Dylan naps in the van.
We arrive at our next venue, the Richmond Music Hall, located in the heart of downtown Richmond, VA, right off main street, at 3:15pm or so and immediately, I’m struck by two things: 1) we have a designated parking space partitioned off right in front of the venue, and 2) a large poster with our name on it is displayed proudly and prominently by the front door.
Nice.
As we make our way inside, we’re greeted by Abigail, the venue manager. She shows us around, tells us about the place (and the adjoining restaurant, the Capitol Ale House), introduces us to our sound tech for the night (coincidentally also named Daniel) then leads us downstairs to the most luxurious, professional greenroom I’ve ever set foot in. There’s a massive (and very comfy) sectional against the far wall, a kitchenette with a coffee/tea bar, a fully stocked fridge full of water and beer, even a private bathroom and shower/changing area. She hands us menus from which each member of the touring party gets to pick a complimentary meal.
I could get used to this.
We head upstairs for soundcheck, and shortly after we finish dialing everything in to ours and Daniel’s mutual satisfaction, members of Tan and Handsome and Cyber Twin arrive. Loxias – the third local act on the bill – reaches out to inform us they won’t be performing as planned and that they’re sending another band – Voodoo Mother – with whom they share members, in their place. Soon the latter arrive, and with every group present and accounted for, we push our gear to the wings and leave the stage so they can each conduct soundchecks of their own. We return to the greenroom for dinner.
Doors open at 7:00pm, and we get to know some of our fellow performers as we all hang out downstairs. I strike up a conversation with the folks from Cyber Twin about a shared love of Stereolab, Sun Ra, and Yes. At 8:00, Voodoo Mother kicks things off with some particularly gnarly, groovy, bluesy, slightly psychedelic hard rock. After them is Tan and Handsome – a regionally well-known hardcore/metalcore act with whom we clearly share no musical common ground whatsoever, but who are super nice dudes and damn good at what they do. They’re immediately followed by Cyber Twin. Cyber Twin has a sparkly, but kind of grungy pop-infused melodic punk sound that I find infectious, and which counterbalances the last band perfectly. This is why I love mixed-genre bills.
We’re finally up around 9:30, and we rip through one of the best sets we’ve played in recent memory. Though the crowd is somewhat sparse, they’re receptive and engaged, and we end the night incredibly pleased with how everything had gone. We get to chat with some folks who walked in blindly off the street. They say they really connected with our set and are quick to let us know how much they appreciate what we’re doing, musically. These kind of encounters are always gratifying. We sell some shirts and CDs, and settle up for the night. Despite a kind of modest turnout, the show turned a healthy profit, and we’re told the venue would happily have us back in the future.
It’s now a little after 11:00pm and we’re back in the van making a brief, 20 minute drive to our hotel in Glen Allen. It’s a Comfort Suites that’s thankfully pretty well-maintained and up to date. Katie, Dylan and I make our way up to the room as Jeff hangs behind in the lobby to make a phone call. Dylan inflates the air mattress as I turn on the TV and flip through channels until landing on a History Channel show about cryptids and the paranormal. Once Jeff arrives, it’s showers and bed. Two down. Two to go.
Day Three – 332 miles to Brooklyn
We wake up just in time to pack our shit and grab a (surprisingly hearty and satisfying) free breakfast downstairs. We return our key cards, and take our seats for the next part of our journey. We set the GPS for The Cobra Club in Brooklyn, NY.
The trip from Richmond to Brooklyn isn’t all that much farther, purely in mileage, than the other drives thus far – it’s a difference of only about a hundred miles or so – but because of tolls and traffic, it’s a much longer and more tedious haul. In fact, it’s pretty grueling. I switch places with Dylan halfway through, switching back to take the wheel for the final approach into the city that never sleeps at a service station on the New Jersey turnpike.
It’s bumper to bumper as we cross into NYC, and we’re running late, which would be kind of miserable and stressful if we didn’t have The Ramones and Talking Heads blasting nice and loud and plenty of scenery to take in. In the setting sun, we can clearly see the silhouette of the Statue Of Liberty. Ahead, peeking through the crowded skyline, are the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings. Then there’s the Brooklyn Bridge off to our left.
We finally escape from the madness and weave our way through a sprawling network of smaller, slightly less congested streets until we find ourselves in Bushwick – a bustling and vibrant neighborhood in Brooklyn packed with bars, clubs, restaurants, food trucks and street vendors of all kinds. We miraculously manage to find a parking spot less than a block away from the venue, between one of the aforementioned food trucks and a smaller sedan. It’s a tight fit, but we manage to squeeze in. We get out, stretch our legs, get the lay of the land, and begin walking our gear down to The Cobra Club.
Now this particular spot doesn’t look like a venue from the front. In fact, when you first walk in you wouldn’t know the place even had the capacity to host a live show. It just seems like a tiny neighborhood bar. But tucked away, back by the pool table, there’s a door that leads to an intimate small room with a shallow stage. Behind the stage is a backdrop of thick, dark red drapes. We’re thrilled to find our friends With Sails Ahead – an Asbury Park, NJ-based progressive post-hardcore outfit – there waiting for us, along with Kyler Sane (formerly of the long-running independent punk band The Muckrakers), and Fall Of The Albatross, an instrumental prog metal act that came highly recommended by friends in the area.
The show starts promptly at 7:00 (there’s apparently weekly karaoke afterward so the sound man is running a tight ship) with Kyler playing stripped down acoustic renditions of each song from his new solo EP Flow, among other things. With Sails Ahead are up next and crush it as always. Hardly any time at all seems to have passed when our turn comes to jump onstage. As we do, I’m approached and greeted by none other than Shane Harrington of the post-punk/noise rock band Cinemartyr – a longtime online friend local to Brooklyn who I had hoped would be able to make it so we could finally meet in person. With the crowd buzzing we kick into gear. Somehow this set feels like it surpasses even the Richmond one.
I’m having the time of my life, simply floored that I’m here – IN NEW YORK CITY – playing songs I wrote with two of my best friends for a room full of people who are attentive and enthusiastic. We finish our last song and briskly break down Dylan’s keyboards to make room for Fall Of The Albatross, who blow me away with their ludicrous technical proficiency and stylistic eclecticism (polyrhythmic atonal jazz shit and punishing thrash metal riffs in the same song? Count me in).
The whole thing reaches its conclusion just after 10:30pm or so – a pretty early end time, generally speaking…but I find it actually feels wonderfully refreshing to be done so soon (I know I’m getting old now). Everyone loads out, Dylan and I grab a burrito from one of the food trucks (best I’ve ever had), we say our goodbyes to Kyler and With Sails Ahead, and end up standing around the van getting to know the folks from FOTA for a while. We talk influences, mutual friends (turns out we’re both tight with Flummox from Nashville, TN), and so forth.
Eventually, the conversation having run its course and fatigue starting to settle in, we bid them goodnight too, and – our original lodging plans having fallen through – jump back in the van to head towards the Rodeway Inn in Little Ferry, NJ, where I booked a room last minute. As we drive, we decide to indulge in some carpool karaoke. It’s stupid, goofy, and incredibly fun. And we only get lost maybe three or four times. You know, no big deal.
From the moment we pull up, we quickly realize this particular Rodeway Inn is, unfortunately, an exorbitantly overpriced shithole. Everything is dingy, dirty, damaged, and reeks of cigarette smoke. It’s labyrinthine and difficult to navigate. And there’s also no elevator. But I guess a bed and a roof is a bed and a roof. And it’s just for the night. We follow more or less the same routine we did the night prior, and crash out just before midnight.
Day Four – 229 miles to Washington, DC
We get up and get the hell out of the hotel bright and early. This Rodeway Inn’s idea of breakfast is a paltry offering of dispensable frosted flakes and stale bread for toast, but thankfully Dylan locates a bagel shop nearby. I decide to throw caution to the wind and order a NY/NJ classic I’d never tried before: an onion bagel with cream cheese and lox. This proves to be a sublime and transcendent culinary experience I won’t forget any time soon. Dylan gets a bacon, egg, and cheese. Jeff opts to redeem some points for a free meal at a White Castle down the street. Katie decides to get a little more rest in the back seat and skips breakfast altogether.
With our sights set on DC, we hit the road yet again, crossing back into New York just to leave it in our rear view mirror. This drive is fairly uneventful, and we take it leisurely. We have plenty of time to kill.
We roll into our nation’s capitol at roughly 3pm, pleasantly surprised to find that tonight’s venue – The Pie Shop – is in a part of town that appears free both from tourists flocking to the museums and monuments for which the city is known and from recently mobilized police/military personnel serving at the beck and call of a certain wannabe dictator with a bad spray tan who is clearly not an object of much public affection around these parts…
Everywhere we look there’s anti-Trump graffiti, protest signs staked into front yards, even flyers highlighting the president’s connections to human trafficker Jeffrey Epstein taped to telephone poles and light fixtures. At one point a biker on a harley roars down the street, a massive flag that reads “FUCK TRUMP” in the same font/color scheme as his own campaign merch billowing behind him. Folks here are not happy with their boorish, power-hungry new neighbor. And they’re also not afraid of him. I smile.
This section of DC feels a lot like Little Five Points back in Atlanta: an urban area that isn’t quite completely gentrified, but has more than its fair share of artsy, niche small businesses and hip dining options. I dig it a lot.
With plenty of time before load-in, Dylan, Katie and I explore on foot and wind up in a cool little independent music shop. Dylan and I each sit down with an acoustic guitar and alternate between playing unplugged renditions of our existing songs, fumbling through a halfhearted cover or two, and tossing around some new ideas.
Before we know it, our time is up. Dylan makes a small purchase (never loiter in a small business without buying something), and we head back to the Pie Shop.
If the Richmond Music Hall has been my favorite place to play on this run, the Pie Shop is a very close second. It’s a humble 100-cap room upstairs from yes, an actual pie shop (the steak and mushroom savory pie was exquisite), with a venerable-looking bar that could have been ripped straight out of an old British pub and a rustic rooftop patio which one has to cross to reach the green room (this one isn’t nearly as glamorous as the Richmond Music Hall’s, but it’s quite cozy and serves its purpose well). Onstage, there’s a beautiful little house drum kit and a full 8×10 Ampeg cabinet into which I’m all too eager to plug my own amp. We soundcheck, then kick back and chat with folks from Howling At The Earth and Sunshine Hysteria.
Members of the band ViRG arrive not long after.
8:00pm arrives and it’s time. The last show of the run begins. Howling At The Earth starts the proceedings, delivering some outstanding melodic, mathy indie rock. Sunshine Hysteria’s next, and they have a sort of early Tool-meets Soundgarden vibe…but with more energy. Tough to describe. Rad as hell to hear/see live. ViRG takes the stage next and blow us away – their stage setup includes not one, not two, but three keyboardists and a drummer. Their songs are upbeat, catchy, and groovy, but also lush, moody, and downright cinematic…like some collab between Herbie Hancock or Vangelis and Kate Bush that you never knew you needed. By 9:45 or so, we’re on, and we give it our all, even though we end up playing to maybe 10 people (including members of the other bands).
As we conclude our performance – the last set of the tour – and the lights come up, I already know what the bartender reluctantly tells me: we didn’t meet the attendance requirement for the night. No one is walking out of here with any money.
Oh well. You win some, you lose some. And we’ve won much more than we’ve lost on this run.
We load up in the van. It’s now 11:00pm or so. And all is going pretty much according to routine, but tonight will be a bit different from the rest of the nights on this tour. With Dylan and Jeff both having teaching obligations on Monday afternoon, and bills due soon, we make the daunting but necessary decision to drive through the night, all the way from Washington, DC back to our meeting spot in Lawrenceville, GA, then to our respective homes.
Day Five – 613 miles to Lawrenceville
I take the first shift, as Jeff gets some shuteye in the passenger seat. Dylan and Katie elect to stay up with me for a while, and we enjoy another round of carpool karaoke as midnight arrives and we officially pass from Sunday night into Monday morning.. After a couple hours, Dylan takes the wheel, leaving me to drift in and out of consciousness in the back seat, only really waking for pitstops at Sheetz here and there over the next few hours. I take another turn driving sometime in the night – this one a good bit more brief – then switch out with Jeff, the best rested of us at the moment, somewhere close to Chapel Hill. I wake back up from another doze just in time to reclaim the driver’s seat for the final hour or so.
When we pull into the driveway of our meeting place, it’s 9:00am. The sun is bright. The sky is clear. I park the van, turn off the engine, and give it a bit of a rest while we unload. With everyone’s gear in their own individual vehicles, I crack open the cash box and divy out our total earnings.
With bags under my eyes, but a smile on my face, I tell my companions on this whirlwind adventure goodbye, and hop back in the van for a few minutes more. I’m home – really home, at my own house – around 10:00. I turn off the van and sit in silence for a minute. I feel gratitude, joy and relief well up in my heart. We did it. I did it.
I have proved – as much to myself as to anyone else – that I can book, promote, and play a successful tour. And after years of wanting to do it, dreaming of it, and hoping the time would come when I would be able to try, it’s hard to verbalize just how much this means to me.
I exit the van. I open my front door. I walk inside. I’m thrilled to see my wife (and my own bed). I can’t wait to see my kids when they get out of school. I’m overjoyed to lay down and rest, and to return to some semblance of mundane predictability.
But I also can’t help but start thinking about when I can do it all again.
You can follow and listen to Great Wide Nothing at the following links:
Facebook: Facebook.com/greatwidenothingatl/
Instagram: Instagram.com/greatwidenothingatl/
Bluesky: Great Wide Nothing on Bluesky
YouTube: Youtube.com/@greatwidenothingatl
TikTok: Tiktok.com/@greatwidenothingatl
Spotify: Great Wide Nothing on Spotify
Apple Music: Great Wide Nothing on Apple Music
Bandcamp: Greatwidenothing.bandcamp.com/
Daniel Graham
Contributor
Daniel is bassist/vocalist of Atlanta, Georgia progressive rockers Great Wide Nothing
